Captured

My plea echoed through the nexus, fading into the depths without the slightest response. The demons' souls still burned bright, but they were mute and subdued, a huddling horde of dull, vacant eyes. Just seconds ago, I'd yearned for their voices to still +

Commander Conrad snorted, shaking his head. "No one's saving you now, Filthblood."

"A fitting turn," Garyth said, nodding. "It seems trusting your new allies worked about as well for you as trusting you did for humanity. A bitter irony, but a welcome one for us."

"No!" I said, prying at the soldier's fingers, my feet kicking helplessly in the air. 

They hadn't betrayed me. They were the Devoted, sworn to follow and help me. They were Fyren's gift in his absence! They were…doing nothing. Allowing the Empire to claim me.

His grip on my shoulder loosened, and for a moment, I felt hope. But then his gauntleted fingers dug into my arms, grasping me tightly around the upper bicep.